


Potions and their Practical Uses

by ProsperDemeter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bruce Banner Has Issues, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Magic, Norman Osborn's A+ parenting, Peter Parker Has a Family, Protective Bruce Banner, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark is Good With Kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27549640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProsperDemeter/pseuds/ProsperDemeter
Summary: Tony Stark has taught at Hogwarts for years and it's more than a simple labor of love. Through hard work, him and his fellow Professors have managed to encourage and foster interhouse unity and keep the school mostly at peace.Until things start brewing, quite literally, meant to harm the very students they have sworn to protect. Who exactly is doing such a thing? What do the affected students have in common? And what, exactly, does Peter Parker have to do with it?
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Gwen Stacy & Mary Jane Watson, Harry Osborn/Peter Parker, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker, Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Ned Leeds & Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Mary Jane Watson, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 23
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey look! An unnecessary Harry Potter crossover! I have a lot planned for this so if you want more please tell me. 
> 
> Oh! Also! I have tagged Parksborn but as they are currently 11 it's not a thing that's going to pop up until m u c h later.

“Who knows,” Tony stood in front of his class of first years, all of them in robes that were a bit too perfect - this was their first class of their entire school year and they had heard about the points that their house would lose if they were caught out of sorts. Granted, they wouldn’t lose any based off uniforms in _Tony’s_ class - they would if Deputy Headmistress Hill found them but not _Tony_ of all people - but they didn’t know that yet. He had a classroom full of his own house - blue and gold striped ties knotted at throats and eager for knowledge - and of Slytherins. It had taken a painful amount of years to learn that it was best to separate the snakes and lions as much as possible and even _longer_ for the old school to admit that, perhaps, they shouldn’t hire people to run the school that would keep the rivalries at the front and center of a learning environment. That wasn’t to say that Hogwarts was _perfect_ once it got into the 21st Century - far from it. But it _was_ better. They _were_ making it better. “What you would get if you added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” 

Twenty hands flew up at once. 

Tony _loved_ teaching his own house. 

“Uh,” He observed the students in front of him. “You. Kid with the puppy dog eyes.” 

“Draught of the Living Death, sir.” 

“Not a question but a statement.” Tony nodded approvingly. “I like the confidence. Ten points to Ravenclaw.” The kid beamed, all brown eyes and wide smile and sat back in his seat. He elbowed the boy next to him - red hair, blue eyes and green tie and they shared a small high five over the wood of the table. 

Interesting. 

The rest of the class carried on that way - Tony asking questions and awarding points to whoever answered correctly. If the student was wrong they didn’t lose anything - it _was_ an introductory class and Tony wasn’t a monster. In fact he absolutely _loved_ teaching. It was rather odd of him - Tony had never seen himself as a molder of young minds. When he was their age he had always thought he would be out in the world, inventing and partying and wasting all of his family’s money. And Tony _had_ done that for a time. It was just… things happened and Tony got tired and then Headmaster Nick Fury had offered him a job and who was Tony to turn down Nick Fury on teaching at _Hogwarts_ of all places? 

He liked the school, he liked the students and he got along wonderfully with most of his coworkers. They understood him in a way that most of the real world had never bothered to and Tony, well, he wasn’t about to give that up. “How are your students getting on?” Steve asked casually, leaned back in his seat with hands folded over his spot on the table. He always had a bit of yellow on him - be it a tie, a pin (like today, an intricate and ornate yellow badger pinned to the corner of his collar), or some other part of his garments - and the color suited his righteous behavior. As the Head of Hufflepuff, Steve gave off the energy his house was meant to. He was loyal to a fault, strong and capable. Kind, generous and stubborn. Tony loved to hate him. 

Somehow, Steve Rogers was one of his best friends. 

“Too smart of their own good.” Tony said with a snort, his eyes unconsciously surveying his _own_ house. The elder years had returned with a vengeance, two of them had already worked themselves up to a panic induced trip to the hospital wing to visit Medi-Wizard Strange and the first years were still so shiny and new that they spent the majority of their time trying to soak up all of the knowledge now offered to them. If Tony were to be honest, he was painfully _unimpressed_ by his students for the most part. They all seemed to lack the certain… gumption that Ravenclaws tended to have. Their thirst for knowledge was a bit too much for him to monitor sometimes and while he cared deeply for them, the majority wanted nothing to do with him outside of the classroom. “The first years are settling in fine.” Tony added with a shrug, taking note of how Franklin Nelson - one of Tony’s more… annoyingly relaxed students - leaned across the table to point on the printed directory (new as of Tony’s time teaching at Hogwarts. Why exactly the previous Headmasters and Professors thought it was a good idea to have first year students go without one was beyond Tony’s capability to process. Were they _trying_ to get the students lost?) of the eager eyed first year from his potions class.

“It’s good to see the older years helping them out.” Steve said with that proud air in his voice. Which, fair, Tony supposed. It _was_ through the tireless efforts of Steve, Tony, Natasha and Bruce that the four houses even got _along_ since they had started their tenure. Steve's own table was more red than yellow. 

“Boys,” Natasha elbowed her way between them, her close cropped red hair dancing above her ears and voice sultry smooth. “What boring thing are we talking about now?” She loaded her plate full of more food than Tony thought he had ever seen her eat but kept silent on the matter. 

Natasha, who had done lord knows what before becoming a permanent fixture teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, knew fifty ways to kill him before he even knew what was happening. And she knew how to get away with it. Tony wouldn’t test her. “Just the first years,” Steve, though, lacked a healthy fear of her and smiled sideways from where he sat like the golden retriever Tony thought he secretly was. “Are the Gryffindors doing okay?” 

Natasha hummed around a forkful of pasta. Her green eyes glittered with house pride when she gazed at her own students - front and center in the hall and the loudest table in the room. Two girls, blonde and copper haired alike, were bent over a piece of parchment and whispering suspiciously. If the way her fifth year Prefect Matthew Murdock was covering his face with his hand in pure exasperation was anything to go by, Hogwarts had a new set of pranksters. Natasha’s lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. “They’re doing splendid.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow to echo Steve’s over her head. 

That was the most emotional answer Natasha had ever given them when it came to her own house. 

“What about you, Brucey?” Tony kicked at his ankle and the dark haired man jumped at the sudden invitation into the conversation. Bruce, in fact, so rarely spoke if it wasn’t about his chosen field of study. Which was unfortunate, since he was one of Tony’s favorite people to talk to. 

Bruce picked at his thumb and fixed the glasses that sat on his nose, seemingly pondering over his own answer before speaking. Slytherin had _always_ been the trickiest house to get a read on. Tony had noticed that, out of the four, Slytherin was the least likely to cooperate. As it was full of the highest percentage of pureblood students Bruce seemed to have the hardest job getting them to talk to the rest of the school. Gryffindor and Slytherin students tended to butt heads, refuse to get along, and have the majority of the fights around the school. Not to mention that Bruce had his own problems. Tony had seen him lose his temper exactly once and had wisely kept it between the two of them, lest Bruce question his friendship like he questioned everything else in the world. What had happened that day was between Bruce, Tony, and whatever higher power there may or may not be in the universe. “I’m worried about a few of them.” Bruce finally said and Natasha and Steve seemed to snap their gazes onto him immediately. Tony frowned as Bruce fidgeted. 

“What’s going on?” Steve worried at his bottom lip. 

“Nothing.” 

“Yet.” Natasha corrected softly. 

None of them argued. 

“There have been rumblings,” Bruce continued after a long pull of his steaming tea. “Something’s going on that they don’t want us to know about.” 

“The students?” 

Bruce shrugged and glanced at Tony out of the corner of his eye. “Or the students' parents.” Tony filled in the gap for him. “Any idea what?” 

“No,” Bruce shook his head with a heaving sigh. 

“Who should we look out for?” Natasha fixed the corner of her gaze - sharp as a viper - on the table in question. A few of the first years looked distinctly uncomfortable and a cluster of sixth years looked ready to commit murder, save for Karen Page who tried to unsuccessfully rally a conversation out of the first years with her fellow prefect Frank Castle. “Names? Ages?” 

Bruce was always unwilling to give that sort of information out. He worked hard to maintain a sort of trust of his snakes that they so rarely gave out - they came to him with family, school, relationship, you name it problems and Bruce did his best to counsel them through it. He had told the other professors of problems exactly twice - once when it concerned Natasha’s Gryffindors and the other when it held a potential abuse situation. Bruce _never_ betrayed their trust if he could help it. Tony knew that. Tony understood and honored that. 

Which was why it was so shocking to him when Bruce seemingly broke his own rule. “Osborn.” Something sick stirred in Tony’s stomach. Osborn. He knew that name. “He’s the closest thing to pureblood royalty we’ve had in years. And Octavious, he’s smarter than is good for him.” 

“Anyone else?” Natasha sounded completely unaffected, a talent Tony wished she would bother to teach the rest of them. 

“Peter Parker.” Bruce’s eyes bored into Tony like they could see his very soul. “He’s in your house.” 

“What about him?” Because just as Bruce was protective of _his_ students, Tony was incredibly protective of his own. 

“He’s Richard Parker’s son.” 

\--

Peter Parker had known magic was real since he was a baby so getting his Hogwarts letter hadn’t exactly been a surprise to anyone except, maybe, Aunt May. Not that she didn’t believe - how could she _not_ believe when Peter was making things float, blow up, and disappear in the blink of an eye his entire life? She just hadn’t expected the owl, he supposed. 

Uncle Ben had been delighted. When Peter’s father, Richard, had gone off to school Ben had been left at home. And when Ben had shown absolutely no signs for magical abilities he hadn’t ever been able to go to the school with his brother unless it was for a family visit. Still, he had never withheld the stories of his childhood from Peter, only shown how much he _wished_ that he could understand it himself. A squib. It was what Mister Osborn said Ben was anyway. Born to magic parents but cursed not to have any himself. Peter was lucky in that aspect. He could always have been like Gwen and not known that magic existed at all. 

“I don’t know why you couldn’t be in Ravenclaw,” Peter bemoaned for what had to be the twentieth time since they started school, legs stretched out in front of him and his voice pitched dramatically. “You’re more than smart enough.”

“I didn’t make the hat choose.” Harry sighed into the palm of his hand and twisted the hair on his forehead before slicking it back. “You know that’s not how that works.” 

“But you could.” Peter reminded him, just as he had twenty times before. “The hat takes your opinion into consideration and it was considering you for a while.” 

Harry hummed, just as he always did, and said nothing else on the subject. 

Peter _knew_ he was being annoying but he honestly couldn’t wrap his head around it. Slytherin. Harry? In _Slytherin_ ? The idea was laughably preposterous. Peter had known the other boy his entire life and _nothing_ about Harry was even close to Slytherin. “Why won’t you tell me what happened?” Peter whined. 

“Because _nothing happened_.” Harry insisted. 

Peter pouted and leaned back in his seat. They were sitting in a corner of the library, Peter spread out on an entire couch and Harry stuffed into an incredibly small ball in an armchair. Which was a bit hilarious considering his height. Harry was tall, taller than Peter anyway, and to see him trying to look so _small_ was almost a little sad. “What do you think of the teachers?” Peter switched tactics. “Can you _believe_ we get to take class under _the_ Tony Stark?” Peter hadn’t shut up about that either. 

Harry’s lips quirked into a smile, though, and he uncurled himself a little bit from around the book he was cradling. “Dad hates it.” He said it as though it were a _good_ thing but Peter understood. 

Anything Norman hated there was a high chance that Harry loved. “Are you still gushing about Tony Stark?” Mary Jane appeared by their elbow - she wore her red and gold tie with more pride than anyone Peter had met before and she tossed her dark red hair over her shoulder as she kicked Peter’s legs off the sofa and sat. 

"Of course we are!" Peter exclaimed and sat curled his legs under his bottom. "It's _Tony Stark_! Only the greatest potioneer and inventor of the century!" 

Mary Jane rolled her eyes but it was lovingly. She shared a rather funny look with her cousin, Harry, and he pursed his lips to keep from laughing. "How were your first classes?" He asked her softly, taking the proffered piece of chocolate she handed out to him. Peter declined, still full from dinner. 

"Professor Romanov is _amazing_ ." Mary Jane gushed with a flutter of her hands. "She has so much practical experience! And you _know_ my mom says that's the best thing in a teacher." 

Peter _did_ know that, actually. Growing up he had spent a good deal of time with the cousins - Harry's mother was Mary Jane's mother's younger sister - and had come to think of the Watsons as another branch of his family. Unlike Mister Osborn, the Watsons never treated Uncle Ben and Aunt May different for their lack of magic and Peter thought his friendship with Harry was much thanks to them. It was sad to not be in the same house as the others, though. So far Peter hadn't made many friends in his own house while Mary Jane had befriended a blonde girl early into her sorting. And Harry… Peter didn't know who _wouldn't_ want to be Harry's friend. Harry already knew most of the kids in his house too. Unlike Peter. 

He supposed he was lucky to have the friends he did. If he didn't know Harry and Mary Jane than Peter would have felt incredibly alone in the big stone castle. "Can I borrow some parchment?" Peter asked either one of the cousins, rummaging around in his bag for a spare pen. 

Harry obliged almost without a second thought and Peter muttered a quick thanks. "Headstart on homework?" Mary Jane asked knowingly, as though Peter wouldn't either already have it completed or put it off until the day it was due (and _somehow_ manage to get an Outstanding). 

"No," Peter shook his head with a small half smile and fixed the bridge of his glasses. "I'm just going to write to Uncle Ben and Aunt May." 

\--

_Uncle Ben and Aunt May,_

_I made it to Hogwarts! I know by letter isn't nearly as fast as by phone but first years aren't allowed mobiles unless it's strictly necessary._

_I got into Ravenclaw! I know it wasn't dad's house but I think he would be proud, either way. You’ll never guess who my Head of House is! Go on then! Guess!_

_Tony Stark!_

_THE Tony Stark!_

_I'm so excited to take classes from him!_

_Harry and Mary Jane say hello! Mary Jane got sorted into Gryffindor and Harry into Slytherin. Mary Jane as a Gryffindor makes sense to me. She always was awfully brave. But Harry in Slytherin? I know something happened but he won't tell me what._

_I haven't made any other friends yet, but I know it's only a matter of time. Try not to worry too much._

_I miss you both like crazy. Only 204 days left until Parents Day._

_Love you,_

_Peter_

\--

Richard Parker had gone to school with Tony, a few years down and disgustingly smart. He had been a Slytherin, one of the highest scoring members of the entire history of Hogwarts, not simply his year or house, and Tony hadn’t liked the crowd he ran with at all. He was a pureblood just as much as Tony was but was terribly naive. He was much more interested in practical application than theory. Richard Parker had single handedly come up with _twenty_ new charms, curses, and hexes by his fourth year alongside his best friend Norman Osborn. 

He had also died of suspicious circumstances when he was twenty-five years old and just dancing on the cusp of scientific and magical discovery. Tony hadn’t been _devastated_ so much as confused. 

Richard Parker didn’t make silly laboratory mistakes. 

To say that Tony didn’t care that Richard Parker had died would be an understatement. He hadn’t really been in the best place at the time - around five bottles of vodka deep into some Asian country - but Richard’s untimely (and gruesome) death had only been brought to his attention once _Mary Parker_ had also died. Because Tony had been close to her. Or, at least, he had _known_ her more than in passing. She had been in his house - Ravenclaw and smart as a whip - and Tony had been her “mentor” or so Flitwick had assigned him to be when he was in sixth year and her in first. They had similar interests, a similar way of thinking that Tony appreciated. She had been sweet, kind to a fault, and when Tony had heard she was getting married to _Richard Parker_ of all people he had been a bit upset at her choice in partner. She could have done a lot better for herself. 

Which maybe wasn’t entirely fair. The man _had_ died traumatically in what Tony thought at least were suspicious circumstances. 

But they had had a son. 

Tony hadn’t _known_ that they had had a son. 

What would he have done with that information, though? If he were to be honest with himself, he hadn’t been in a place to know or recognize such facts until that very moment. And even then he only cared because Bruce had brought it up. He supposed it made sense, then, the Ravenclaw boy nearly inseparable from the Slytherin redhead that had been in his class. How had he not seen it before? 

Because Peter Parker looked an awful lot like his mother. He had her chestnut hair, her smile, her eager nature to please and learn. Tony saw her in his ear to ear grin and heard her in his voice. And he supposed he owed Mary Parker at least the small amount he could give, and if that was to keep an eye on her son then he would try his hardest to do simply that. 

If only the kid would stop hanging with the wrong crowd. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two!!!! Thank you everyone for the love on the first chapter, I really hope I meet expectations on this one 💙

_Peter,_

_Writing letters feels a bit funny, doesn’t it? We were texting just a week ago! I fully expect you to invent something soon to get that school of yours up to our technological standards. I don’t think I can keep going this long between conversations with you. Who else is going to discuss conspiracy theories with me? Certainly not your aunt. May already spends a good deal of her day thinking I’m crazy. We can’t possibly confirm that for her._

_Ravenclaw, huh? That was your mom’s house. Mary only spoke highly of it - and of Stark. Even if Richard didn’t like him all that much. Said he was smart but had a stick up his ass. I never met the guy so I can neither confirm nor deny that. Either way, blue’s one of your favorite colors and May told me to make sure you knew that it brings out your eyes._

_How are you doing with the tie? No youtube tutorials for you on how to keep it tied throughout the day. Though, I suppose you have a spell for that. Or at the very least you have Harry for that._

_It sucks that him and Mary Jane aren’t in your house with you, I know how much the three of you were looking forward to late night sleepovers every day of the week. Maybe it’s for the best, though, Pete. You’ll get to meet so many new people! And maybe make a few more friends. So many new stories for you to learn and tell me about._

_On the Harry front, though. Kiddo, you know he doesn’t keep things from you. He probably needs time to process everything too. Not everyone bounces back as quickly as you do. And if he is keeping some sort of secret bugging him for answers isn’t going to make him come clean any faster than waiting him out. You know that. I know you know that. You two have known each other forever._

_Of course, your aunt and I miss you terribly. The house is much too quiet without you in it. We actually talked about getting a dog to fill the Peter shaped cone of silence._

_Only 200 days left until Parents’ Day!_

_Love you more spider-monkey,_

_Uncle Ben and Aunt May_

\--

Tony’s plan had two steps. 

Step one: invite Peter Parker to his office for a one on one. 

Step two… well Tony hadn’t _actually_ thought of a step two yet. 

It was fine, he supposed. He was good at thinking on his feet. 

He strided confidently to the Ravenclaw table, it was a study period and he wasn’t shocked in the least to see that his house was the most crowded. Ravens tended to try not and take any study period for granted, of course unless you were of the slacker type. Which Tony had known more than a few of. Peter was pretty easy to locate now that Tony was looking for him - he was small but not so much that he looked odd for an eleven year old. His robes were new, though not tailored in any way except for the Ravenclaw patch on the right breast. His tie was off centered but neatly put together and, Tony supposed, he shouldn’t have been surprised that across from him were two redheads, faces turned towards their papers and books as they diligently worked. Franklin Nelson, Tony's least favorite Prefect, was beside them but he was more interested in folding an intricate paper plane than he was in actually doing any studying. He shouldn’t have been surprised there either. 

Or by Mister Nelson’s apparently shadow in the form of Gryffindor Prefect Matt Murdock and Slytherin Karen Page. The three of them were never far from one another and Miss Page was busy helpfully reading aloud from their Charms textbook just softly enough that it didn’t disturb anyone nearby but Murdock could take in the words. His telltale red glasses were a nifty piece of magic, actually, and Tony had always wanted to get his hands on them to break down how exactly they worked. He supposed they weren’t much different from Clint’s purple ones - where Clint’s enabled him by translating sounds to text that he could read, perhaps Murdock’s translated words on a page to something only he could hear. Either way, it was incredibly nifty and impressive and Tony’s fingers itched a bit too much to understand how they worked. He hadn’t seen anything like it. Clint wouldn’t even let anyone but Natasha near _his_ , though, so Tony supposed that a student like Murdock wasn’t going to let Tony near his. 

“Afternoon, Professor.” Miss Page acknowledged him in stride and then transitioned smoothly right back to the text she had been previously reading. 

“Miss Page,” Tony greeted back politely and then tuned the three older students out. “Mister Parker, I was hoping we could have a word?” 

Peter Parker’s pencil stuttered over the page, Harry Osborn’s (and didn’t _he_ look so much like his father, red hair and curved upwards nose but so many more freckles and blue eyes) lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile, and the redheaded girl ignored Tony completely in order to hiss out a “Gwen!” at a passing blonde girl. 

“I…” Peter flushed and blinked furiously at the paper in front of him. 

“Finish that problem first, Pete.” Osborn said softly with a tap to the paper in front of the other boy and Peter nodded quickly and picked up his pencil again. Nelson shot Osborn an appreciative look. 

_Tony_ didn’t like it. The ordering around. It reminded him of his father. Reminded him even _more_ of when he was a student overhearing Norman Osborn ordering his “friends” around like they were his slaves. He opened his mouth to say something - Murdock tensed, just a bit - and Peter Parker turned around and smiled the world’s most blindingly bright smile in Tony’s direction. “Okay, I’m ready, Professor Stark!” 

Tony blinked. “My office, kid.” 

“Cool,” He turned back around briefly to grab his book and paper and shove it into his bag. “I’ll see you guys after classes?” He asked his friends. 

“Go on, then.” The redheaded girl waved him off and tugged the blonde into the open spot beside her. 

“Bye, Pete.” Osborn waved. 

“Nice to half meet you, Peter!” The blonde said with a laugh. 

Tony spun on his heel and led the way, his mind running in circles to figure out what to do from there. Did he just admit to having known Peter’s mother? Or did he start off with topics such as his most recent homework? As it was, Tony didn’t exactly have much of an overt reason to have called on him anyway. There were plenty of other students suffering a lot more than Peter’s, rather flawless, homework. Even for a first year with the easiest topics, his grasp of the concepts were impressive. 

Peter, for his part, was screaming on the inside. He had barely gotten used to taking _classes_ for Professor Stark, let alone having a conversation with the man. Peter had spent a good deal of his childhood reading every article the man published, in both muggle journals and wizarding ones that he could get his hands on. He was absolutely brilliant and Peter had been internally - and only occasionally _externally_ \- ever since his sorting. To take classes with the man was one thing, but to have him as his head of house was something Peter had only dreamed about. 

He hugged his bag closer to his chest and followed the taller man obediently, a spring in each of his steps. There was a bit of worry that he was in some sort of trouble, but that had dissipated rather quickly. Peter wasn’t a trouble maker, he had turned in every assignment on time - and to _his_ standard which, Peter had to admit, was a bit higher than most others - and the only possible _bad_ thing he had done was walk through one of the ghosts while reading. Foggy - the blonde haired prefect with the incredibly kind smile that had helped him map his way to his classes during the first week - had told him that the ghosts were very much used to it and probably found it endearing rather than frustrating. Still, Peter _had_ meant to locate the one he had stepped through and apologize but he hadn’t been able to find the exact corridor he had been in. 

It wouldn’t have been so _hard_ if the castle would simply stop _moving so much_. Foggy had also said that Peter would get used to that and his friend with the red glasses, Matt, had laughed and said that he might not. 

So far, Foggy was the only person in Peter’s house that he had engaged in more than a ten minute long conversation and more than once. It was a bit ridiculous - Peter had roommates and he was usually much better at making friends. But he was an odd sort of anomaly at Hogwarts - he wasn’t muggle-born but he wasn’t pureblood either. He came from a known family but he hadn’t been dragged to any of the society events that Harry was. In fact, Ben wouldn’t have even been welcomed if he even _wanted_ to attend. Ben might have been from a prominent family but he was a squib, he had raised Peter in the muggle world with his muggle wife and, for all intents and purposes, had given up all of his claims to any sort of title the Parkers ever had by doing so. Peter only sort of understood it, Mister Osborn had explained it only once and had stopped rather abruptly at the way his own son’s face had quickly paled at the new information. 

Peter wasn’t an idiot. His friendship with Harry was allowed by special circumstances only and apparently Norman Osborn could pull his support of the actions as quickly as he could give his approval. It wasn’t _dangerous_ so much as _infuriating_. That Harry needed permission at all to make friends was something Peter didn’t understand. Mary Jane was much more vocal about it than him, though. 

Professor Stark’s office was massive. He had a giant, plush couch in the corner, navy blue with dark gold accents and wall to wall filled bookshelves. In place of his desk was a giant mahogany table, papers in messy stacks and books opened in disarray on the top. He didn’t have many personal items in plain sight, but Peter saw the paper degree that stated he had a Doctorate in Chemistry and Mechanical Engineering from the muggle world as well as one with moving glittering ink that said he had the highest education available in Potions and Magical Theory. To have both. Now _that_ was Peter’s dream. 

“So,” Professor Stark turned towards him, and with a confidence that seemed almost entirely fake, toyed with the wooden wand in his hand. He spun it between his fingers with expert precision and pulled his lips into a quick sort of half smile. “How are you settling in?” 

“Uh,” Peter was much more terrible at faking confidence and he was very much aware of such a thing. He fixed his glasses with a tweak of his fingers so that they sat more squarely on his nose. “Pretty good? The classes are really fun.” 

“Fun?” Professor Stark echoed with a raised eyebrow. 

Peter flushed. “Yeah. Fun.” He shrugged. 

“I’ve never heard someone describe it like that before.” 

“It’s learning.” Peter’s shoulder shrugged once more. “What’s not to enjoy about it?” 

“Surely you must have one class you dislike,” Professor Stark seemed to be teasing, though and as he spoke some of the tension that had been in his shoulders began to dissipate. 

“Nope!” Peter bounced on his heels. 

“Have you had flying yet?” 

“No,” he scratched the side of his nose. “That’s scheduled for Friday.” 

“We’ll revisit this then, shall we?” 

“Professor Odinson seems really nice though.” Peter had heard all about the flying instructor - he had been a professional Quidditch player for years before being recruited by Headmaster Nicholas Fury to teach at Hogwarts. He had apparently only agreed to the position after the disappearance of his brother and on the promise from his friend - Professor Steven Rogers - that he could assist on the search better if he wasn’t touring with his team. The big, handsome man had seemed nice enough when Peter had gotten lost, though, and had happily placed a guiding hand on his shoulder the entire walk to where he actually needed to be. 

“He’s smarter than he looks,” Professor Stark said absently. “Are you always this excitable?” 

“Probably,” Peter cocked his head with a small laugh. “Uncle Ben says it’s part of my charm!” 

“Benjamin Parker, right? The squib?” 

Peter’s walls rose and his cheeks almost instantly colored with something other than adoration. “Uncle Ben’s a police officer.” 

“I didn’t mean any harm.” Professor Stark raised his hands in apology. “I never met the guy so I can’t judge him.” 

“You’re right. You can’t.” 

“Are you sure you’re a Ravenclaw? Most of my kids don’t have the guts to talk back to me.” 

“Just because I’m more than one thing doesn’t make me any less of a Ravenclaw.” 

“Okay, okay,” Professor Stark laughed sheepishly and rubbed at the back of his neck. “It seems we got off on the wrong foot there. Mind if we try again?” 

Peter shrugged. 

“I knew your mom,” Professor Stark spoke to the desk rather than to him. “Mary would have said the same thing.” 

“You knew my mom?” Ben had always told Peter stories of his father but he rarely had ones of Mary Parker to tell him. His parents hadn’t been married when Peter was born, and they spent such a rare amount of time around Ben and May that they didn’t correspond much once Richard graduated Hogwarts and Peter was born. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but more because they were always so busy. Richard and Mary’s work needed a certain amount of secrecy that would have put Ben in danger if he had known about it and the fact that Ben had chosen the muggle world over the wizarding one to reside in hadn’t exactly _not_ stung. 

That wasn’t to say that the brothers had hated each other. Ben had adored his older brother and Richard had written him fortnightly to keep him updated on Peter and his general life. Things were just simply… different. “Our head of house was Professor Flitwick back when we went to Hogwarts. He assigned me as Mary’s… mentor you could say. I was in sixth year, she was in first. She was a good kid. Smart, kind.” Professor Stark’s lips twitched upwards and he glanced at Peter, his hazel eyes flicking over his body as though looking for signs of her in him. “Didn’t put up with arrogance a lot. She had zero tolerance for bullshit.” 

“Yeah, she was really good at telling when I was lying.” Peter remembered the way Mary would raise an eyebrow at him whenever he tried to pull one to her face. It was just barely there, mixed with memories of grief, but he thought that she used to pull him into her lap and poke him on the nose until he told her the truth. 

He would always be thankful for May and Ben for taking him in and giving him a home and family. But he still missed his parents. In the quiet hours, in the mundane bits of everyday life. It was odd when it would hit, just the other day it was over a peanut butter sandwich and a month before that it was while out on a walk before heading to Hogwarts. “Did you know my dad?” Peter asked after a moment. 

“Richard? More in passing.” 

“That’s fine. Mister Osborn told me a lot of stories about him.” And sometimes about Mary, too. But Peter had a feeling that Mister Osborn and his mother hadn’t quite gotten along as much as his father had. 

Professor Stark sat on the end of the table and Peter took it as a cue to drop into an open chair. Stark’s shiny dress shoes hovered over the floor. “How long have you known him?”

“Mister Osborn?” 

“Yeah. How’s good ol’ Norman doing?” It sounded almost like a joke.

Still, Peter answered it as best he could. “He seems okay? He patented a new medical spell to scan for cancerous tumors and is working on a way to remove them from the host without causing harm. But I’d ask Harry if you actually wanted to know more.” 

“What’s up with that?” 

“With what?” 

“Harvey.” 

“Harry?” 

Professor Stark waved his mispronunciation with a lazy hand. “Yeah, him.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You two. You’re…?” 

“Friends?” Peter squinted behind the glasses covering his eyes. “I’ve known him forever.” 

“And that’s a good idea?” 

“Professor Stark.” Righteous anger filled Peter’s blood and he pursed his lips.

“Tony.” 

“What?” 

“I hate being called Professor Stark.” 

“Is that all, _Professor_?” 

“Listen, Peter.” Professor Stark dragged a long hand down his face and pondered his words. Peter gave him time. “I’m not the best with people, but your work so far has been astounding.” He couldn’t help preening a little. “And I’m not just saying that because I know your mom. That being said, would it be okay with you if I sent some of your more… challenged classmates to you to tutor if they need help? I’m not against helping them but I think you might also benefit from the experience.” 

“Oh!” Peter flushed and chewed on his bottom lip. “Uhm, okay?” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah! Yeah. That would be great.”

\--

“You _made up_ a tutoring position.” Bruce deadpanned from across from Tony, lines on his face drawn and tired. Tony took his time pouring Bruce a steaming cup of tea and lining his plate with a crisp, warm, fresh from the oven cookie before answering. 

Bruce looked as tired as Tony felt, which meant he was at least ten times more tired than Tony could even comprehend. The full moon had been a few nights before and Bruce had foolishly scheduled his class for a test the next day. Tony had tossed something to calm his nerves in with the tea, as he usually did, and Bruce tossed him a small smile in thanks when he drank it and the potion did it’s work. His shoulders dropped down from where they had been hunched by his ears and the line in his brow eased. 

But, regardless of how relaxed Bruce now was, Tony _had_ made up a tutoring position. He _had_ tutors. He had _plenty_ of tutors. And they were typically never first years. He heaved a deep breath and sighed out through his nose. It had been a stupid and impulsive decison. “I can explain.” 

Bruce’s eyebrows rose. “I’m waiting.” 

Tony opened his mouth to answer and the office shook. 

It was quick and abrupt and not at all unlike a tiny earthquake. Bruce’s tea sloshed over the edge of his cup and onto the sleeve of his shirt and a few books fell off Tony's shelves. They stared at each other and waited. 

The fire lit up a bright blue and Tony groaned. His turn then. Bruce smiled brilliantly and it made him look ten years younger. “I’ll just wait here, then.” He settled back into the fabric of the plush couch and his smile only widened at Tony’s scowl.

“Yeah, yeah, Banner. Laugh it up.” 

Tony grabbed his cloak off the armchair he had thrown it on in his haste to relax after dinner was over and curfew had begun and all but stomped out of the room. 

What _exactly_ had one of his Ravens done now?

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yay? Nay? Maybe?


End file.
